Love Delayed In Dublin

by Moni Boyce

  Conor quickly got out of bed and scavenged for his sweatpants.

  “While I’m down there, I’ll throw our clothes in the wash.”

  She nodded.

  After putting his pants on, he walked backwards towards the door, unable to take his eyes off of her. “Don’t move.” He gave her a sexy grin and disappeared out the door.

  15

  Jordan

  Part of her wanted to ask what “Mo ghrá” meant. The romantic side of her was content just knowing the night had been so special, he needed to end it with a whispered Irish endearment.

  Curiosity drove her to get out of bed and put back on his t-shirt so she could be nosy.

  Maybe she shouldn’t be snooping, but she couldn’t help it. She just wanted to learn more about him. He was a little bit neater than she thought he would be. In his closet she ran her hand along the fabrics of the clothes that hung on hangers. Holding the sleeve of one of his button down shirts up to her nose, she inhaled.

  Mmmm. It smelled like him. Whatever that soap was that he used, musk… man. The shirt must have been recently laundered because she could smell the laundry detergent as well. His shoes sat on a rack on the floor. After poking around a bit more she shut the door.

  A few pictures hung on the wall: some old, some more recent. They were very similar to what hung on the walls at the pub.

  At his dresser, she pulled open the top drawer. Underwear. Off to the side, she saw something that couldn’t make her stop grinning. She plucked her black silk panties from the drawer. He’d wedged them in there. How often had he taken these out? She wrinkled her nose, when thoughts of what he might use them for flitted about in her head. Stuffing them back into their hiding place, she shut the drawer and continued her investigation.

  His desk was fairly tidy. She touched the pencils, Sharpies and pens in the holder and thought about him sitting here writing to-do lists or doing something else more mundane. The lingering thought made her smile and she pulled open one of the drawers.

  Notebooks were tucked away in the back of the drawer, neatly stacked. Some were worn and lined with age. The covers of the notebooks on the top of the stack looked newer. She pulled the first one out and opened the page. Beautiful hand-drawn sketches stared back at her. Whichever building he’d sketched was beautiful. It was clear he’d taken his time and put a lot of effort into capturing every detail just right.

  Jordan flipped through the book. Page after page had more sketches and drawings of buildings and structures. After closing the notebook, she set it on the desk. Opening the drawer wider, she pulled the full stack of notebooks out and sat them on the desk. She rifled though some of the notebooks on the top and sat them aside. A few contained sketches of some of the buildings he’d taken her to in Dublin. Others had drawings of buildings that were clearly his original works.

  One of the older notebooks from lower in the stack caught her attention. It was different from the other ones and had ‘NY’ written on the edge of the flap. When she opened this one, it contained pictures of famous landmarks in New York: Queensboro Bridge, Empire State Building, Flatiron Building, Washington Square Park, Ansonia Hotel, Trinity Church, Brooklyn Bridge, Jane’s Carousel…

  Her hand paused. That was one of the places they’d visited that New Year’s Eve. Slowly, she turned the page and there was a drawing of the boardwalk at Coney Island. Flipping to the next page, revealed a sketch that shocked her.

  She dropped onto his desk chair, her eyes never leaving the page. It was a sketch of her. He must have done it from memory. She traced her fingers across her face while she looked at the likeness that stared back at her.

  Seeing all of this made her realize that she needed to tell him how she felt. She needed to tell him that she loved him. It didn’t matter that she would be the first one to say it. Maybe if he knew, he’d want to come back with her. They needed to be together and he needed to go back to school and finish getting his degree, so he could build and create things like he was meant to do.

  After all this time, fate had brought them back together. He had to come back with her. They could have a really good life together.

  “Here we are. One hot toddy, coming right up.” The ecstatic look on Conor’s face died the instant he saw the open drawer, and his notebooks lying around on his desk.

  One of the notebooks was still clutched in her hand when she stood. “I can explain…”

  Why hadn’t she heard him coming up the steps? She’d been too engrossed in his artistry to worry about being caught. Everything else had been blocked out.

  His expression was unreadable, but when he stalked towards her, with the hot mugs in his hand, she knew he wasn’t happy. He sat the stemming coffee mugs harshly on the desk. “What are you doing?”

  Jordan had expected some of the liquid to slosh out of the cups, but it didn’t.

  “Let me explain.”

  He yanked the notebook from her hand and slammed it shut. “You had no right.”

  What could she say? He was partly right. She’d been snooping. “I just… I… I was just…” She took a deep breath to stop her stammering and stuttering.

  “I just wanted to learn more about you…”

  He’d turned away from her and began shoving the notebooks back in their sacred place in his drawer.

  “Conor?” She reached her hand out to touch his shoulder, but drew it back, unsure how he would respond.

  “You’re so talented… What I saw in your journals, you should be designing the next…”

  “Stop saying that.”

  “But it’s true. You are talented. Anyone looking at your work could see how badly you want it. Why won’t you let yourself…”

  “Because I can’t.” Conor whirled around to face her as he cut her off. “I don’t need you to remind me of it.”

  Things were going even worse than they had the last time she tried to have this conversation with him. She just didn’t understand why he was so angry.

  “What about us?” Couldn’t he see that she loved him?

  “What about us? You leave here in two days, Jordan?” Everything he said and the way he said it was like a punch to the gut.

  * * *

  “But I thought…” She pursed her lip together. “You said you would consider coming with me.”

  Cold, hard reality crashed into her. “You never had any intention of considering it… did you?”

  “Are you delusional? I can’t leave. You’ve been here for a bleeding month. Do you not see all I’m responsible for? How am I supposed to leave?”

  Now she was angry. She could feel her chest tighten. Her hands curled into fists. “I’m delusional? I’m the one who’s delusional? You’re the one walking around here calling me your girlfriend, yet you knew I was returning home. You’re the one who draws in these notebooks,” she grabbed one of the notebooks off of his desk and waved it around, “and wastes his talent, because he’s too scared to take what he wants.”

  Angry tears glistened in her eyes. “Too scared to take what’s right in front of you.”

  This wasn’t them. She didn’t want to be standing here saying hurtful things to him.

  One of the best nights they’d shared had been ruined. She had to get out of here. There’s no way she could stay. If she stayed, she would end up a sobbing mess and she refused to break in front of him after he’d just broken her heart. Jordan loved him, but it was clear he didn’t love her. Why wasn’t he fighting to keep them together? Fighting to take back something that had been denied him for so long?

  Looking around the room, she tried to locate her clothes. She walked over to the bed and looked under the duvet.

  “Jordan wait.” Conor tried to grab her arm.

  “Don’t… touch me.” The emotional mixture of anger, hurt and shock made her voice tremble and shake.

  He held his hands up in surrender and took a step back.

  Then she remembered he’d stuck her clothes in the dryer. She looked around once mor
e and found the sweats he’d given her earlier on the floor and she scrambled into them.

  Conor tried talking to her again. “Please don’t leave. Not like this. The rain is coming down fierce.”

  Jordan blocked him out and ignored his words. On the way to the door, she checked for her purse. She must have left it downstairs.

  “Jordan, please.” He grabbed her hand.

  She didn’t turn around to look at him. There was no way she would let him see how badly he hurt her.

  “Let me go.” She bit her lip to stop it from quivering.

  “Please let’s talk.” Conor pleaded.

  “What’s there to talk about? You’ve already made up your mind.” Jordan yanked her hand out of his grasp and fled down the stairs. She found her purse laying on one of the chairs in the living room.

  As she headed for the front door, she could hear Conor rushing down the steps. Quickly, she put on her soggy shoes and opened the door.

  “Jordan.”

  Despite the still falling rain, she closed the door and ran down the street, attempting to use her purse as a shield against the rain, while she held up his sweats with the other hand.

  After about five minutes she saw a taxi and flagged him down. She gave the driver Siobhan’s address, not wanting to go to the hotel.

  When Siobhan opened the door and saw her soaked to the bone, wearing men’s clothes, she asked no questions. She simply let her in. Jordan ugly cried herself to sleep on Siobhan’s sofa.

  The next morning, the aroma of fresh brewed coffee woke her up. Jordan realized she must look a fright. Her hair had been soaking wet and then she slept on it without her headscarf or a silk pillowcase.

  When she sat up and peered over the back of the sofa, Siobhan waved to her from the kitchen.

  “You’re awake.”

  Jordan yawned and nodded simultaneously while glancing around Siobhan’s flat.

  Last night, when she turned up unexpectedly, there hadn’t been sufficient light for her to get a good look at anything. Not that she had been in any mood to examine and explore Siobhan’s place.

  Siobhan’s flat was decorated in a hodgepodge of bohemian meets tech geek, if that was a thing. It was a unique, eclectic blend.

  “Coffee?” Siobhan asked the question while settling a mug into Jordan’s hands.

  “Thank you.”

  Jordan sipped at the hot brew and continued to look around. Not wanting to meet the young woman’s curious stare. A thought suddenly struck her. “It’s my last night here. I’ve been in Dublin this whole time and I haven’t been on a pub crawl. We have to do one.”

  Siobhan looked at her weirdly. “Don’t you want to spend your last night with Conor?”

  “Pub crawl?” Jordan offered again, ignoring Siobhan’s question.

  Siobhan looked confused but nodded.

  “Can I borrow some clothes?”

  Once Siobhan went to her bedroom, Jordan sat on her couch and tried not to think about her broken heart. It was clear that Conor didn’t care about her. She wasn’t going to dwell on that. For her last night in Dublin she was going out with a bang.

  Conor’s latest attempt to reach her had been enough. He’d already left countless voicemails and text messages.

  Jordan held down the power button on her cell phone. “Stop calling me.” She mumbled the words under her breath. Stuffing her phone in her purse, she avoided another inquisitive look from Siobhan.

  When they had arrived at a pub in The Temple Bar area, the plan was to eventually make their way over to O’Connell Street and work their way through the pubs there.

  Siobhan had her squeezed into a sparkly dress that was so short, Jordan was afraid to bend over. Her cleavage was on display and the sexy, smoky eyes Siobhan had given her reminded her of Elodie making her a Barbie doll. Earlier, she was pretty sure an old woman had called her a tart.

  Before they could head inside, a familiar voice called out. “Fancy a ride, lass?”

  Jordan whirled around to find Cash approaching. She gave Siobhan an accusatory look. “What’s he doing here?”

  Siobhan didn’t get the chance to answer, because she whipped back around and asked Cash the same question. “What are you doing here?”

  Cash was unfazed by her unwelcoming tone. “Siobhan invited me.”

  He stuffed his hands into his pockets and narrowed his gaze. “I could ask the same of you, ya know. Why aren’t you with my brother? I thought you two were joined at the hip.”

  For a minute, Jordan eyed him. Had Conor not spoken to him?

  “I don’t owe you any explanation.” Indignant, Jordan folded her arms across her chest.

  Stepping past her, Cash headed toward the door leading into the pub, and stuck his head inside. “There are a hape of people in there. Sure you want to go in?”

  “That’s the whole point of a pub crawl. You go inside, sometimes the place is crowded, and you have a good time.” Jordan walked past him to the door.

  Cash held up his hands. “You’re the boss, as they say.” He said the first part in an American accent.

  Damn. Can all Irish people do American accents?

  She didn’t mean to keep being snarky to Cash. It’s just she thought it was going to be a girl’s night out. Plus, he looked so much like his damn brother. She just didn’t want to be reminded of Conor right now.

  Inside the pub was crowded. Cash had not been exaggerating. They pushed and shoved their way to the bar. The bartenders were rushing around pouring pints and mixing other drinks for patrons. They had to wait twenty minutes to order.

  “Three pints of gat and three jägerbombs.” Cash spoke before Jordan or Siobhan could say anything.

  “I can order my own drink.” Jordan glared daggers at him.

  Siobhan even folded her arms across her chest and gave him the stink-eye.

  “Who said any of this was for you hussies? These are for me.”

  It was hard trying to fight the smile that was attempting to lift the corner of her mouth. A few seconds later, both Jordan and Siobhan were cracking up.

  Maybe having Cash around wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  They put in their drink orders, but each ended up downing one of the jägerbombs that Cash ordered.

  By the third pub, Jordan was only slightly buzzed from the fruity drinks and cocktails she downed. When an admirer ordered her a pint of the black stuff, she toasted them and stared at the beer that had bested her at the beginning of her trip.

  “You don’t have to drink it.” Cash taunted her. So like his brother, assuming she couldn’t handle it.

  “Yes, I do.”

  Cash nodded. “You sure you want to do this?” At the time he asked her, he motioned for the bartender to pour him a pint. The tattooed, pierced bartender quickly filled a pint from the tap and handed it to Cash.

  “Yep.” Jordan nodded.

  “Bet you can’t drink it faster than me.” He winked at her.

  The competitive streak in her wouldn’t let her back down. It was her last night in Dublin. She wasn’t going to be bested by Guinness and she wasn’t going to let another Byrne brother tell her what she was capable of. “You’re on.”

  “For the craic.” Conor roared and began to gulp down his pint.

  Jordan lifted the pint while she mumbled to herself. “I’ll show him I can drink a pint of Guinness.” She began guzzling down the beer to the cheers of nearby patrons.

  This time she finished the whole pint, but not before Cash. Either way, she felt victorious. She raised her fists in the air and yelled in triumph. Everyone around was clearly impressed by the American, because they congratulated her and patted her on the back. Siobhan gave her a high-five.

  Wearing a smug look, Cash leaned against the bar. “You keep drinking like that you’re going to be ossified before the end of the night.”

  “Good that’s what I want.” Jordan stuck her tongue out at him.

  You’re not the boss of me.

  They were at
pub number 6 by the time she was feeling the effects of all the alcohol she’d imbibed. She wasn’t quite white girl wasted, but the belligerence was bound to show up soon.

  Siobhan was making out with some guy in a corner somewhere and the bar was holding her up. Cash suddenly appeared beside her. What does he want?

  For a while he stood there, saying nothing. It was clear he wanted to ask her something. Before she could make him spit it out, he spoke.

  “C’mon, what’s the real reason you’re not hanging with Conor tonight?” Cash nudged her while fiddling with the empty glass. In her periphery, he peered at her while he waited on her response.

  Jordan didn’t look at him, but kept staring straight ahead. His question sobered her for a minute. So much for forgetting. “Your brother doesn’t want to be with me.” She looked down into her glass of Jameson.

  “He said that?”

  Jordan picked up the glass and sipped some of the alcohol. “He didn’t have to.”

  For a while neither of them said anything.

  “I asked him to come back with me to New York. I thought that after all this time,” She waved the glass around in the air while she spoke, “and then me showing up here and us both still feeling strongly for one another that he would say yes, but…” She shook her head, lost in her own thoughts.

  “Last night… I was going to tell him I love him… but I realize now he doesn’t love me.” Jordan was teary eyed by this time. She drank down the last bit of Jameson that was in her glass in one swallow.

  “Bartender.” The word came out slurred while she pushed her glass forward and motioned that she wanted another one.

  Cash’s tone grew serious and he pushed the glass out of reach. “Maybe you’ve had enough.”

  Belligerence kicking in, in five, four, three, two… “Don’t tell me when I’ve had enough. I’ll tell you.” Jordan jabbed her finger into his shoulder and went to take a step and instead the heel she was wearing had other plans. Her leg buckled, but Cash caught her.

  “It’s definitely time to go.” He picked her up in his arms, even though she struggled.